


Belle's Pieces

by misscam



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misscam/pseuds/misscam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle tries to puzzle together who she is from the pieces she can find. [Belle-centric. Belle & Ruby friendship, Snow/Charming, Belle/Rumpelstiltskin, Grumpy, Maurice, Sneezy, Hook, Regina, Whale]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belle's Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 2x12. Future episodes might make it AU. Not a fix-it per say.

Belle's Pieces  
by misscam

Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words

II

Belle. She's been tasting the name in her mouth for a long time, trying it in different tones, seeing if one of them will spark recognition. So far there is nothing. Belle.

They all call her Belle. What sort of name is that? She asked one of the nurses what it meant, and was told it was 'beautiful' in another language. Beautiful. It seems an almost shallow sort of name, describing the outside and none of what lies beneath it.

Belle. She's not even sure she likes it, but she's gotten so used to hearing it the last few days she's decided to try thinking of herself as Belle, to better answer to it. And it's all she has, all she can cling to, even if it's given her nothing.

Dr Whale tells her she's suffered a memory loss from an accident, but that she's otherwise fine. The nurses tell her the same, but somehow, it doesn't feel like fine. Nothing feels like fine.

No one who identifies as family comes to see her. She does seem to have friends as Belle, though. The woman calling herself Ruby has been by several times, giving encouraging smiles and promised her a bed at her grandmother's the moment Dr. Whale deems it fine. Mr Gold hasn't been by since she asked him to leave, but she hears his name mentioned in hushed tones sometimes, that he's ensured she's to have the best care. David and Mary Margaret Nolan have visited (she remembers them from that night, taking charge with the sheriff) and even brought a book they said was a gift from their grandson Henry.

They seem young to be grandparents, but their eyes seem older and she wonders at that. Wonders at a lot of things, actually, most of all what she saw that night.

There was fire in his hand, and then, then his hand glowed and her shoulder didn't hurt anymore.

She wonders if she may be a little crazy. She thinks she may have been, before that night. Magic. That's what he told her when he came to visit her. She can't, she can't believe in magic. That's crazy.

That's the sort of thing that gets someone locked up in an asylum for 28 years, she thinks, and doesn't even know where the thought comes from. Somewhere dark and cold that makes her shiver in her hospital bed, makes her want to tear at her hair and throw cups against the wall.

Belle. She doesn't feel very pretty. She doesn't feel very like Belle at all.

II

The clothes they bring her must be hers since they fit her, but when she tries them on they feel as alien on her as her own skin.

When she looks in the mirror, it's a stranger looking back.

II

There were two other men there, she remembers, and she finds them both in the hospital with her. One of them keeps asking her what she saw, and she avoids the question as well as she can. He may be testing her, and the moment she mentions anything strange, she'll be carried away and locked away.

Crazy. She must have been.

The other just smiles at her, an empty sort of smile that seems to hold little real joy. He's missing a hand, she notices.

“Thank you,” he tells her. “You broke his heart. Now he'll know what it feels like.”

“And you do?” she asks, careful to keep her distance even though he's handcuffed to the hospital bed.

“Yes,” he says darkly.

“So why would you wish that upon someone else?” she asks, and he tilts his head and looks her up and down.

“You're not very vengeful, are you?” he asks in return, and she takes it in, then walks away.

No. She rather thinks she's not.

II

True to her word, Ruby comes to pick her up from the hospital, but not alone. There is David and Mary Margaret too, both looking a touch distracted and like they haven't slept much.

She knows that feeling. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees nothing but darkness and that's impossible to sleep to.

Ruby's grandmother apparently owns both a diner and a bed and breakfast, and Belle gets to pick her own room. She takes the one with the most light, sitting down on the bed and closing her eyes to the rays of suns through the window.

Light is underestimated unless deprived of it, she decides.

When Ruby comes in to ask her if she needs anything, Belle decides to finally ask what she's been wondering for a few days.

“Why are you doing all this? Who was I to you?”

“You were a friend,” Ruby says, her smile sincere and easy. “You didn't listen to what anyone else called me. You made up your own mind.”

Belle nods, the nods again more firmly. Yes. That's what she needs to do. They're all so determined they know who she is, but she needs to make up her own mind.

Yes. She thinks she might just be that kind of Belle – and inquisitive too.

II

She eats breakfast at Granny's diner, trying to decide how she likes her bacon. It is a slow, enjoyable sort of activity, even more so because she can't quite make up her mind.

When a man slides into the booth opposite her, she looks up in alarm.

“I'm Leroy,” he says gruffly. “If you feel a bit weirded out, you can go to the pharmacy and talk to Snee- er, Tom. Tom Clark. He knows how you feel.”

With that, he takes a bacon from her plate and gets up again.

“Wait!” she calls after him. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You gave me advice once,” he says. “It didn't work out too well, but that wasn't your fault. We weren't even friends and you still cared enough to give it.”

Cared, Belle thinks. Yes. That feels true. She cared, she cares.

II

“I usually prefer a crossbow,” Granny tells her, and Belle merely stares as the older woman keeps holding out the small dagger. “But this will do in a pinch. Come on girl, it might not take out a dragon, but it will cut off the balls of any pirate that tries anything.”

Belle finally accepts it, wondering just what sort of dangers this little town holds.

II

The pawn shop is closed, the library is soon to open, the mayor's office seems to have people keep an eye on it, but otherwise Storybrooke seems to a normal little town with little shops and houses.

Except, except she doesn’t know what normal is. Normal is a blank slate she is trying to fill in piece by piece, like a puzzle.

And as she walks through Storybrooke, everyone seems to give her a wide berth, almost as if they're afraid. Or maybe they think she fears them.

She isn't sure which is the most disturbing.

II

As she turns a corner, she almost walks into another woman, with dark hair and dark eyes. For a brief second her mind seems to scream, then it's forcibly choked and she blinks.

“Sorry,” she apologises, but the woman simply keeps looking, her eyes glinting a little.

“So it's true.”

“Excuse me?”

“You've forgotten,” the woman says, and smiles darkly as well. “That must have hurt him.”

“I'm sorry?”

“I'm not,” the woman says, turning the corner Belle came from with determined steps, the sound of heels on the sidewalk abruptly vanishing.

When Belle follows, the road shows no sign of the woman; it is as if she has vanished into thin air.

II

The pharmacy doesn't have any other customers as she walks in, and the clerk gives her a faint nod as she approaches.

“Tom, right?” she asks, and he nods again, stifling a sneeze. “I'm Belle.”

“I know,” he offers. “You're the librarian. You were in here with Mr. Gold last week.”

“Oh,” she says, filing those pieces of the puzzle away. “I've been in the hospital. They told me I was in an accident.”

“Need a prescription filled?” he offers, but she shakes her head.

“Did I come here often with Mr. Gold?”

“Not very often,” Tom says after a moment, clearly thinking. “Mr. Gold is one of my most regular customers, though. Even if his purchases are a little... Weird, sometimes.”

“Weird?” she repeats, and he eyes her suspiciously, as if trying to judge if she's mocking him.

“Whole town is,” Tom mutters, and she can't help but nod firmly. “Ever feel like you're the only sane person in this town?”

“Or the only crazy one,” Belle offers; it is also an option, after all.

II

Librarian, she considers. She'll ask Ruby about it later, if that was truly her job, but somehow, she thinks it was.

It fits.

But what else was she?

II

The sheriff’s office is open, but perhaps wasn't intended to be, she realises when she walks in on David sitting causally on the desk while Mary Margaret not so casually is kissing him.

For a moment she thinks they might not even have noticed her walking in, David's hands not moving from Mary Margret's waist, but then they break the kiss and shift slightly so they're both smiling a bit at her.

“Belle,” David says softly. “What can we do for you?”

“I'm sorry, I thought the... the blonde woman was sheriff,” Belle says. Come to think of it, she hasn't seen the woman since that night.

“Emma,” David and Mary Margaret say simultaneously, then exchange a brief glance.

“Emma is the sheriff,” David goes on. “I am merely filling in while she is away on a trip with Gold.”

“Oh,” Belle says. He's away then. That explains why he's been leaving her alone. “I was just wondering... Do I have any family here? No one came to the hospital, so I wondered if I even had any. I figured the sheriff might know.”

“You have a father,” David says after a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Moe French. He runs the flower delivery business. You had a fight with him and asked him to stay away. He's probably honouring your wishes.”

“Do you know what we were fighting about?” she asks, and she can see on his face that he does. She holds up a hand. “Actually, I'll ask him myself.”

“We'll come with you,” Mary Margaret offers, and David nods.

“I can look after myself,” she says, lifting her chin and wondering if she could in the past. If she couldn't, all the more reason to be able to now.

“Of course you can,” Mary Margaret says, and Belle finally notices what's propped up against the desk. A bow and arrows. David is carrying a gun holster, so it's probably not his. “Just think of us as back-up.”

She is starting to think there is nothing 'just' about either of them or this town, Belle doesn't say.

II

The moment she steps into the flower shop, she can feel eyes on her and then she is wrapped in an all-compassing hug.

“Belle,” the man whispers intently, lovingly. Right. Moe French then. Her father. “Tell me you've left him, tell you've...”

“There was an accident,” David cuts in. “She crossed the town line.”

Moe pulls back instantly, scanning her face. Whatever he sees there, must convince him it is true, because something passes over his face.

It is joy, she realises with a sinking feeling. (Crossing the town line, she files away for later, along with everything else weird going on in this town.)

“You've forgotten him then,” he states.

“She's forgotten everything,” Mary Margaret says, sounding not very pleased.

“I don't care,” Moe says simply. “It is worth it.”

She steps out of his embrace, almost staggering backwards.

“That I've forgotten some man is worth this to you?” she asks sharply. “Nothing makes sense to me and I feel like I'm going crazy and you're telling me it's worth it?”

“He's no good for you, Belle.”

“Wouldn't that be my choice to make?” she tells him, tasting the determination in her own words. So. She can be this too. Not just care and beauty. “Even if it turned out to be a mistake, isn't it mine to make?”

“Belle...” he says sadly, his hands falling and his gaze slipping away. For a moment, she thinks of the cup breaking against the wall. It is almost the same expression.

“Why did you name me Belle?” she asks abruptly, and her father looks up at her with sad eyes.

“It was your mother,” he says. “You were so very beautiful to her when you were born we could name you nothing else.”

“Because of my looks.”

“No. You were beautiful to us both because you were our daughter. Our Belle.”

“I may be your daughter,” she says, holding out a hand. He takes it very hesitantly. “But you do not own me. No one does.”

II

She exists the flower shop hurriedly and walks for a few minutes before she finally finds a wall to lean against, David and Mary Margaret both looking sympathetically at her, having followed.

“I was involved with Mr. Gold,” she says tonelessly. “That's why he was so desperate I should remember. He scared me.”

“I don't think he meant to scare you,” Mary Margaret offers.

“He kissed me,” she says, and David and Mary Margaret exchange glances. “I screamed.”

“I think he thought it would help you remember,” David offers after a moment. “Mary Margaret once had a somewhat similar situation.”

Belle looks from David to Mary Margaret, both looking earnest. “Is amnesia very common in this town?”

Mary Margaret splutters a little, trying to hide it with a cough, and David grimaces.

“It's been a bit of a curse to the town, you might say,” he offers, making Mary Margaret give him a pointed look.

“The point is, David kissed me to... Jog my memory,” Mary Margaret says firmly.

“And that helped?”

“Not at first. I knocked him out and tied him up.”

Belle stares, but from the way David smiles sheepishly, it must be true.

“So what happened?” she inquires.

“He showed me what he was willing to do for me,” Mary Margaret says, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He smiles, putting his own hand on hers, their gazes lost in each other. “So I kissed him.”

“You made your own choice,” Belle concludes, nodding firmly. Yes. That's the only way.

“I did,” Mary Margaret agrees, holding out a hand; Belle takes it.

II

She isn't sure whose idea alcohol is, but before she knows it, it's several drinks later and they're at Granny's diner and Ruby is dancing with her (after she's confessed she can't remember how to), and Mary Margaret and David are not so much dancing as moving in circles with no space between their bodies, at least until the phone rings.

“It's Emma,” Mary Margaret says, and David touches the phone reverently for a moment before they both excuse themselves to go out and take it.

“They miss her,” Ruby says as ways of explanation, spinning her a little. “You're a natural dancer.”

“Am not.”

“You've lost your memory, how would you know?”

Belle has to laugh at that, laugh until she's almost crying and leaning her head against Ruby's shoulder.

“I think I'm a little crazy,” she confesses; feeling a sharp jot for fear and a thrill that she's brave enough to admit it out loud at the same time.

“We all are in this town,” Ruby says softly. “Don't worry. It's going to make sense one day.”

“I was locked up for a long time, I think.”

“Yeah. But not because you were crazy.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you,” Ruby says easily, both of them looking towards the door as it opens and David and Mary Margaret come walking in again.

David is holding the phone out to her. “He wants to know you're unharmed.”

He apparently doesn't need specification to anyone, and truth be told, she knows who it has to be.

She takes it apologetically, untangling herself from Ruby, who also steps away to give her privacy.

“Hello?” she asks into the phone.

“Belle?”

“I'm here,” she says, recognizing the desperate tilt to his voice from his visit to her hospital room.

She can hear his exhale. “I'm sorry for bothering you. I just had to make sure.”

“I can look after myself,” she tells him firmly.

“Have you remembered?” he asks breathlessly, it makes her wonder if she's ever told him something similar before.

“No,” she says. “You can't give me a cup and expect me to remember. You can't kiss me and expect me to remember. None of those tell me who I am, just who I was to you.”

“I'm sorry,” he says, sounding defeated, and she feels a stab to her heart. This is her too, then. Compassion.

“But I am making new memories,” she goes on, her voice strong and clear. “I am learning who I am. Maybe one day _I_ could kiss _you_. If you give me reason to.”

“I would like that,” he says quietly. “Goodnight, Belle.”

II

She watches herself in the bathroom of the diner, the flush in her cheek from dancing, laughter in her eyes and a lingering smile on her lips.

It is still a stranger looking back at her, but at least they've been introduced now.

II

When she returns to the bed and breakfast, Dr Whale is there, but not to check up on her, apparently. No. To check out the not quite sober Ruby accompanying her, and Belle finds it strangely endearing as the two coyly smile at each other.

Apparently, she is also a bit of a romantic, finding David and Mary Margaret, and Whale and Ruby touching to watch. A romantic.

She probably wanted the same for herself. A grand, epic romance with coy smiles and dancing with no space between them. The sort of thing she probably read about as a young girl.

She lets herself into her room, turning on all the lights and sitting herself on the bed to consider what the day has taught her. She has friends. She has a relationship with a man she can't remember. She has a father.

All those things merely defines what she is to others, though.

There is also what she's learned about herself today. She cares. She makes up her own mind. She works with books. She is a romantic. She makes her own choices. She's not vengeful. She has some fire in her. She's inquisitive. She can get scared, but she can also be brave. She doesn't like the dark. She isn't crazy or at least not more crazy than everyone else here. She's compassionate. She's beautiful, but not only.

Belle. Not only. Her name, but not what defines who she is. That she's still working on, still fitting all the pieces together to make the puzzle that is her.

She reads Henry's book in bed; it's a fairytale with a happy ending, but she falls asleep before she gets to it.

It will still be there for another day.

II

FIN


End file.
